Clinics, Flip Flops, and Cultural Differences

Today was such a busy day at Tabitha Center.

Our nurse, Georgette

Our nurse, Georgette, now comes every Wednesday to talk with the women about health issues and distribute medicines as needed.  The vendor returned to fit the children with flip flops that didn't get them on Monday, and the women were busy making jewelry, bags, dolls, soap and cards.  I was out in the children's area when someone came to get me.  One of the women, Odine,  had cut her leg on the soap cutter.  I rushed to where she was and when I arrived, saw a 3-4 " gash down her shin area.  It was bleeding and the cut was deep.  The nurse was there having her clean it with water and placing gauze bandages on it to try and stop the bleeding.  Odine's husband was killed in a motorcycle accident about six months ago.  She has a little boy that is probably around 5 or 6 years old, always smiling and full of mischief.  But as he stood by his mom you could see the worry all over his face.  It was decided that she needed stitches and I would drive them to the clinic.  Her little boy was so worried about her and you could see the agony in his face thinking he was going to be left behind.  I took him by the hand and helped him get into the backseat of the car.  Suzanne, the pastor's wife, was with us as well.  We drove to a clinic that was about five minutes from Tabitha Center.  The clinic was a small area with two buildings and a small outside courtyard between them.  The building was made of mud bricks, with concrete floors that were stained and chipped, and walls that had once been painted but were now peeling and dirty from the constant blowing of the red dirt in that open area.  As we came into the courtyard we were greeted by the man who worked there.  He went into the office area and came out with a list of items that would be required to stitch the gash and the cost of the procedure.  The amount was paid and he led Odine to a room on the opposite side of the courtyard with a sign above the door that read "Dressing Room".  Suzanne, Odine's son and I waited in the courtyard.  At first I was shocked by the place - the outside right wall of the courtyard was framed in a mismatch of either grooved metal sheeting pieces nailed to a wooden frame or woven bamboo.  It was an area that contained a metal bed frame with a thin, black vinyl covered mattress on top.  Several rusted metal chairs and a wooden bench stood near the bed.  There was a small fan nailed to one of the wood beams as well as a bare light bulb.  The same configuration was duplicated at the opposite end.  These beds would be for patients that would spend most of the day there.  The benches and chairs were for family members who would help care for the patient and bring them food.  In the opposite building with the "Dressing Room" in the middle, there were two other rooms, the "Care Room" and the "Observation Room".  These rooms were just large and long enough to hold a metal bed frame with the thin, black vinyl covered mattress on top and a narrow walkway where the doctor/nurse could go from one end of the bed to the other.  There were no doors to close the rooms, only a curtain that could be dropped if necessary.  The smell of the area was not pleasant and all I could think of was dirty needles and infection.  It took almost an hour for the doctor/nurse to treat Odine's leg and as I sat in the courtyard I began to look more closely at everything.  Although it was obvious that the buildings were run down, everything was as  clean as possible.  I watched as he worked on her leg, and was impressed by the effort to keep everything as sterile as possible.  He did a nice job of cleaning and stitching her leg,  wrapped it very carefully and was professional in all of his dealings with us.  Odine left with medicines for pain and to fight any infection that would start to develop.  When we were leaving, her little boy jumped into the front seat and the worry on his face had now turned into a smile and excitement of his friends seeing him riding in the car.  My initial impression of dismay at the clinic was replaced by a thankfulness that there were clinics in Sector 30 to handle these kinds of situations.

When we returned to Tabitha Center, the women were working away.   When they saw Odine return they started cheering and praising God.  They are such an awesome group of women.

I had some diaper pins that Vickie Van Nevel brought with her on a vision trip and one of the women saw them in my bag and wondered what they were.  I've been a little leary of introducing diaper pins for fear of the babies being poked or the pins lost.  But they were curious, so I put a diaper on one the babies and explained how to use them, emphasizing safety and care.  Before I knew it, there was a line of babies to be diapered.  These women have a great sense of humor, so several motioned to their older children to be diapered, or claimed that they were pregnant and needed diapers.  I love it when they tease like that because it is a sign that they are comfortable with me.

As we were closing, Suzanne announced that a little 10 year old girl that had been lost for two days was found the night before.  On Monday when we found out she was missing it was like a blow to the stomach.  Sector 30 is a vast maze of mud huts and walls and there are minimal communication tools. I can't imagine the relief her family felt when she was returned home.

To those of you who supported the flip flop program, the women and children area so grateful!  Thank you!!

Children with their new flip flops

Mothers holding flip flops for their children

Hopefully, the flip flops will keep the children from walking barefoot through dung and glass, picking up germs in the soil. 

I was reminded on Monday about dealing with different cultures.  There was a little boy of about 5 or 6 laying on the floor in a place that blocked traffic coming from the back of the room.  His mom yelled at him to get up, but he didn't move.  I had been watching him and thought he must not be feeling well and was asleep.  She reached down and slapped him hard across the arm and then across his ear.  He started screaming and she yanked him and up and drug him to the back of the room and told him to be quiet.  One of the other women went over to try and soothe the little guy but by this point he was hysterical, holding his ear.  I waited as long as I could and then went back to them.  I took his hand away from his ear and it was bleeding from the force of the hit.  He let me carry him up to the front where the medicines are and we cleaned and treated it.  He was just whimpering as we finished and my heart broke for the little guy.  What I have to remember is that hitting and beating are part of this survival culture.  His mom did what she has witnessed and been taught.  The children are constantly hitting and pushing each other - it's how they get what they want.  I have to keep myself in check, not be judgmental and pray for wisdom.  Think our devotionals next week will be centered around doing unto others as you would have them do unto you!